


When Lighning Strikes

by AshlynDecia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6386152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshlynDecia/pseuds/AshlynDecia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One rainy, stormy night three teens on the run come across two brothers chasing darkness. In the midst of their greatest fight, Harry, Ron, ad Hermione look to aid of their friends. When the smoke clears, can the trio return the favor in helping Sam and Dean with their demons? </p><p>Follows major story lines for DH with the addition of the Winchesters. Follows Season 8 (roughly) with major canon divergence towards the end of the season altering the Meta stories. </p><p>**Reviews/suggestions/feedback LOVED**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     The rain outside tapped a persistent pitter patter against the dirty, old glass window. A biting cold wind danced with the rain and blew in through the gaps and cracks in this old house. In the shadows of a dying fire, a tall man sat slouched in a broken down old recliner, dozing with a half empty bottle in his hand. There was another man with smooth brown locks asleep on the moth eaten bed the next room over. A crack of lightning lit up the sky and was followed a few seconds later by an almighty smack of thunder.  
     Shattering glass and warm beer covered the floor next to the dozing mans feet as he shot bolt upright, pistol appearing in his hand before the bottle had hit the ground. The haze of sleep was fading from his emerald green eyes but the film of exhaustion never entirely went away.  
     After several sweeps of the room his body slumped back into the chair, realizing that had just been thunder. He passed a rough and calloused hand through his short hair and grimaced when he saw his shattered beverage. Deciding sleep was a lost cause, he hoisted himself to his feet and paced to the window to peer out into the night and the rain.  
     As he stood there the hair on the back of his neck rose. There was...something moving between the trees, and fast. It wasn't trying to hide and it was heading straight for that broken down old farm house that the two men were camping in while in town.  
     "Sammy!" he growled as loud as he dared but it was enough because the man in bed groggily sat up.  
     "Dean?" he mumbled sleeply. Catching sight of him alert by the window, gun drawn, he stood up quickly, moved near the door jam and cocked his own pearl handled pistol. Dean jerked his head toward the window, beckoning the other toward it. The figures were less than 30 yards from the house.  
     There were at least 3 of them, hunched up against the rain. The dark and the rain prevented any other discernible features from being noticed. Both men stared out the window and backed themselves against the wall to ensure that they were out of the line of sight. Moving near the door they stood on either side, listening intently for any sound.  
     Less than a minute later the sound of heavy footsteps hit the soaked wooden porch.  
     "Well, we picked a fine landing point," a surly voice with a British accent poured through the cracks in the door.  
     "I'm sorry but at least we are on land," a snappy female voice responded to the first.  
     "Always with that - it was one time!" a familiarity between the two voices was obvious from the banter.  
     "How about we nip in out of this wind then? " and a third voice was added to the mix.  
     "Hang on," the woman interjected. "Homonim Revelio… There's someone here!" the last bit was said in a hoarse whisper. Locking eyes the two men decided that was their cue. Swinging wide Sam kicked the rickety old door practically off its hinges.  
     Standing just beyond the touch of the rain were three bedraggled robed figures, shoulder to shoulder with their arms extended and a thin slip of wood in each of their hands. From the tip of the center stick, a light glowed illuminating the faces of the two men. Their guns were leveled at the faces of the newcomers, eyes squinted against the glare.  
     "Who are you?" the man called Sammy growled.  
     Sticking his chin out, the center boy, for he could be no more than 17 or 18, responded. His black hair was plastered to his pale face and his thin, black rimmed glasses were covered with droplets.  
     "Nobody. You?" his voice was even but strained.  
     "Same. What are you doing here?" Dean growled from under his brows as he glared at the three.  
     "Running," the girl said boldly, causing the other two robed figures to cast alarmed eyes her way. She slowly but resolutely lowered her arm to her side, keeping her chin high and eyes on the black holes of the guns staring at her.  
     "Running? Running from what?" he snapped, his eyes flicking behind the kids, straining to see anything in the darkness.  
     "Monsters," she replied, the slightest quaver in her voice. Sammy smirked.  
     "That's a nice story. But how about something true?" his arm never moving.  
     "Well, not monsters but like monsters. Very bad people. We just needed somewhere to stay for the night but we can move on... " she made to back up and the two men flicked the tips of their guns up slightly.  
     "Not so fast little lady. We are about 15 miles outside of the nearest town. I didn't hear any wheels and there ain't no way you three made it all that way in this rain," Dean said with a firm tone. Casting nervous glances back and forth between them the three teens swallowed hard. Without warning, the girl flung her arm back up and, with a complicated flick of her wrist, a shot of white blue light erupted out of the tip of that delicate twig in her hands.  
     Years of hunting and fighting gave the boys the reflexes they needed to dodge the attack. Leaping forward they tackled two of the newcomers, taking them to the ground and twisting to hold them against their chest, guns rested against the side of their temple. The girl had stepped to the side and the black haired boy along with his red-haired freckled companion had been strong-armed against the brothers. She stood stock still while the taller red-haired boy spouted.  
     "What in the name of…"  
     "Ron, shut up!" the girl stammered, fear dripping from her voice  
     "Yeah, Ron, listen to the lady," Sam snapped, pulling tighter against the boy he was restraining,  
     "Okay, okay listen. I'm Hermione and.. and this is obviously Ron and that there, that is Harry and we are just trying to stay out of the way of some really bad people. We are sorry to bother you and if you.. if you just," she spouted off in a slow panic.  
     "Ahh!" the black haired boy called Harry gasped sharply as a thin silver blade sliced the exposed side of his hand. Taken back by the attack, the redhead called Ron gasped anew when the man holding him poured cold water from a flask over his already soaked head. The two men locked eyes.  
     "Not demon."  
     "Or shifter."  
     Herimone's eyes widen in panic.  
     "No, no we are just people please please listen I… I…."  
     Giving a quick jerk with their legs, the men pulled the arms of the two boys, causing their hands to spasm and the little powerful sticks to roll comically onto the porch.  
     "Alright missy, now you." Hands out like a hostage she carefully squatted down and set hers on the porch. The two boys were then roughly pushed to their feet and herded over toward the girl, guns trained on their faces.  
     "Alright, Ron, Harry, Hermione. What the heck did you shoot at us and what the heck could three kids be running from?"  
     "We're just… just on the run and we didn't mean anything and if you could just give us our wands back we could…" Harry stammered, trying to sound brave.  
     "Wands? What, these?" Sam said eyeing the three slips of wood on the porch. The three kids didn't speak.  
     "Wands like wizards and magic and dragons?" Dean asked, doubt written all over his face.  
     "Well, yeah, what do you think? Just nutters with twigs?" Ron snapped waspishly.  
     "Listen, we really aren't here to cause any trouble. Our mistake and if we could just get them we will be out of your way." The three kids seemed completely out of their element without their wands and they stood staring nervously at the pistols still leveled at them.  
     "Dean… they're just kids…" Sam said slowly, not moving his eyes. After a long moment, Dean lowered his gun and squatted quickly to scoop the sticks up, never taking his eyes off the group huddled on the other side of the porch. Sam lowered his gun once Dean had the wands.  
     "I'm Dean and this here is my brother Sammy," Dean said, gesturing at his brother with the ends of the wands. "Sorry about all the third degree but you can never be sure, ya know?" The visitors didn't move.  
     "Listen, why don't you come inside out of the rain so we can help," Sam started slowly. The two men turned toward what was left of the doors to usher the kids in.  
With the reflexes of a trained athlete, Harry leapt toward the cluster of wands held loosely in Dean's hand. He managed to close his fist around the three handles. Hermione and Ron were clutching the hem of his robe and he gave a violent twist. The three soaked kids disappeared from the porch, right into thin air. Dean had stumbled into the door, surprised by the sudden attack. The two men just sat there, staring at the spot where moments before there had been three bodies. Dean experimentally swiped his hand through the air that was cool and empty.  
     "What in the…" Sam started as he walked toward the spot, staring around awestruck.  
     "Well, I guess there must be some things we still don't know, huh, Sammy?" Dean said looking up sideways at his brother, an amused smile playing across his lips.  
     "Do you think they will come back for this?" Sammy asked quizzically as he bent down and picked up a purple beaded bag. Only moments before there had been three sopping wet teens claiming to be wizards standing in front of them. And now they were gone; disappeared into thin air. He stood cautiously, unsure of what to do now, looking to his older brother.  
     Dean seemed more amused than anything, which was surprising. He had a half-cocked smile on his face as he shook his head and stared around.  
     "Dean?" Sam probed again.  
     Dean glanced at the bag in his brother's hand and shrugged with a frown on his face.  
     "What's in it?"  
     Sam frowned curiously as he loosened the string on the bag that felt so light he thought it was empty. Staring into the interior, he saw only black shadows. Experimentally he stuck his hand inside the bag. His eyes widen and he stared up at his brother when he pulled the bag all the way up to his armpit and still didn't feel the bottom. Being only about 6 inches long, this was not what he had expected.  
     But that little bag now had their full attention. Walking over to it, Dean pulled it slowly down Sam's arm and stuck his own arm inside. They wore matching expressions of wonder when he too felt a vast space inside the bag. He jostled his hand and felt various things bump around. They felt like poles, books, and bottles with clothing wrapped around all of it.  
He closed his hand over a small angular bottle that fit neatly into his palm and pulled it out of the bag. Looking at it in the starlight, he read Dittany in a neat scrolling script on the side of the bottle.  
     "What in the world?" Sam asked grabbing the bag slowly back from Dean as he unstoppered the little bottled and experimentally sniffed the contents. Dean pulled back as the strong scent of mint and aloe hit his nose.  
     Flashlight in hand, Sam held it over the opening of the bag and peered into the seemingly endless hole. The skin around his eyes tightened and his lips thinned. "Dean," he mumbled hoarsely. Dean leaned in and gazed into the magic bag. Blood drained from his face.  
     "No way."  
     Inside the bag there was what seemed to be a vast interior; it resembled the inside of an enormous trunk. There were stacks of books, a bag of poles and tarp, endless bottles and flasks and small cloth bags, what looked like fancy old-fashioned broomsticks and endless other items that made no sense to either Winchester.  
     "Makes those wands a little more believable," Dean mused.  
     "Well, I can guarantee they will be back for it, those wands blazing," Sam stated.  
     "Yeah, and that little firecracker about cleaned our clock without even trying. What's say we head out?" Dean asked as he stepped off the old porch into the rain and the dark.  
     "Yeah," Sam mumbled, appearing distracted. Pulling the golden cord that closed up this wondrous little bag, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his denim jacket as he followed his brother to their '67 Impala.

     Three soaked figures stood in the middle of a field, bent double breathing hard. Eventually, they pushed their sodden hair back and peered up at the watery afternoon sunlight shining down on them. Surrounding the grassy field were tall, old trees that grew into a perfect screen, hiding them from the eyes of any looking their way. It was a much more favorable spot compared to their last landing point.  
     "Much better," Ron said, rubbing his neck, which was a little red thanks to Sams hold on him.  
     "Definitely. How did we end up in that place anyway?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione as he held his lightly bleeding hand. He had passed the wands back to their owners when they had first landed.  
     "To be fair, I was thinking of a forest in Sussex that I read about but hadn't actually been to. I guess I was tired and we might have ended up in Sussex, Delaware - in the states," she finished softly.  
     "That explains why I am completely wiped," Harry sighed as he straightened out his stiff limbs. "Can you pass me some Dittany, Hermione?" he said staring at the gash in his hand.  
     "Yeah, sure..." she said as she reached into the inside pocket of her robe. Her motions became frantic as she riffled through all her pockets and patted her body down. Pale and sweating she asked, "Do either of you have my bag?" Their blank, panic filled stares answered her question.  
     "I must... I must have... have dropped it when... oh no," stammering she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.  
     "Let me guess, back with those lovely brothers," Ron sighed. Hermione only nodded, a small jerky movement. The three of them stood there, at a complete loss.  
     "We have to go back. Everything is in there- our supplies, everything!" Hermione pleaded.  
     "I know, I know. It's just - it's raining and dark there. What are the chances we find that little bag without getting shot first?" Harry responded with a heavy voice.  
     "Getting what?" Ron asked confused.  
     "Shot, Ron. Those were guns - muggle weapons that blast chunks of metal very, very fast. They almost killed the two of you," Hermione explained exasperated.  
     "Splendid," he said looking at the ground. "So what do we do?"  
     "Let's kip a couple hours under those trees, dry out and wait for morning to come - where ever we were. In the sunlight, we might have enough of an advantage with these," Harry explained holding up his slim wand, "to find the bag and get out before they even know we are there." Hermione looked unsure but didn't come up with any other plan. Nodding in consent, the three ambled, exhausted, to the densest patch of trees they could see. Circling, they cast all the muggle repelling and protection spells they could in a tight circle around them. Satisfied with their work, they slumped against the trunk of an ancient maple tree. Ron and Harry nodded off almost immediately while Hermione, on her watch, peered nervously out into the English afternoon sun. Playing over and over in her mind where the hundreds of horrible things that could happen because she had dropped that bag...

     After a few hours of sleep, Harry and Ron woke to Hermione snoozing softly, her head resting on her chest. Apparently the stress and adventure of the last few hours had been a little much. Gently rousing her, the three of them silently linked hands, wands grasped between fingers. With a crack and pop, the field was empty once more.  
     Bright morning sun suddenly poured down on them as they stared at the run down old farm house, which looked even more ominous in the daylight than it had a few hours before. The trio stood silently, watching. Harry nudged Hermione softly.  
     "Car’s gone," he whispered, pointing to the driveway where there were deep mud lines from spinning tires.  
     "Still, we don't know what they might have left behind," she whispered, the guilt from the night before hung on her skin, like the rain was still falling. "Listen, I will creep up there and see if I can find the bag. Just wait here and keep watch," she whispered quickly.  
     "No way, we should all..." Ron started, a protective shadow on his voice.  
     “Ron, I'm harder to see and better at silent spells. I'll be fine. Besides, it is easier to see from here and you'll catch things I don't. Then you can run in," she stated, closing the matter. Turning back toward the house, she took a deep breath and began muttering spells as she swiped her wand around her body. Holding it waist high, she silently cast spells of protection and detection as she crept behind bushes toward the house.  
     She kept as close as she could to the path they had trudged up the night before, clearly marked by the squelchy footsteps they had left. She silently chastised herself, remembering to address that in the future. She made it all the way to the porch with no sign of her precious bag. Looking desperately around the small porch, she felt the panic start to rise up in her throat. Tears starting to form in her eyes, she caught a glint of gold from the far end of the porch. Rushing toward it she lifted the single thread. Instantly she knew where it had come from and dreaded to think what that meant. She peeked into the windows of the house, checking to see if they might still be there but not really holding much hope.  
     Defeated, she stumbled back to the boys, stripping away her defensive spells as she went.  
     "It's gone. I think they must have snatched it or picked it up," she said, a lump in her throat.  
     "So... so what do we do?" Ron asked, confused. She swallowed hard.  
     "Well, I put a very complicated watcher spell on the bag so if I can find a body of water, I can basically scry for it and see what is around it. It's just, wherever the bag is, it will glow green while I am watching it," she said staring around for some sign of water. Her eyes rested on the deep puddles that dotted the forlorn gravel driveway. Resolutely she walked toward the nearest one.  
     She swished her wand in a careful pattern, ending with a sideways flick. The surface of the water bubbled a moment before an image, as clear as if they were in the same room, appeared on the surface of the muddy water.  
     The bag was sitting on a dirty little plastic table. Two tall men sat near it, heads together over a large book. Almost instantly, Hermione recognized the tall turrets and colors in the images on the page they were reading.  
     "Oh no..." she whispered knowing that the situation had just gone from really bad to the very worst.

     Waking with a sudden jerk, Sam looked around the dingy motel room where he and Dean had spent the rest of the night. After leaving that run down old farm house, they had driven 45 minutes to the other side of the small town where they were working a job. Finding the most derelict looking motel they could, they had rented a room and promptly passed out on the worn beds. The smell of past guests hung in the air, making Sam crumple his nose as he slid his feet into the boots at the foot of the bed.  
     Groggily he ambled over to the small, stained table in the corner where they had deposited their duffle bag and jackets. As he picked up his faded canvas coat, gold tasseling glinted from the inside pocket and the memories of the day before came trickling back into his consciousness. Forgetting his original intent of heading out on the morning coffee run, Sam sat in the pleather chair and pulled the small bag out of his pocket. Curiosity driving him, he opened the top and clicked on the reading lamp over the table to shine directly into the bag.  
     Studying more carefully, he read the spines of some of the books that he could see.  
     1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi  
     Jinxs and Counterjinxes for the Everyday Spellcaster  
     Advanced Potion Making  
     Sam rubbed his temples, still having a hard time wrapping his brain around everything that was going on. Always keen on research, especially something this unique, he reached his hand in and blindly pawed for one of the texts he had seen. After a moment of groping, he closed his fingers around a spine and carefully lifted it from the magical room.  
     Hogwarts: A History  
     Opening to the first page, Sam quickly found himself engrossed in the facts and history of this school that had been around for more than a thousand years. A mecca of magical learning and knowledge, there seemed to be no end to the new and fascinating information. Nearly an hour later, Dean woke with a blurry jerk. It took a moment or so for him to register his surroundings and notice his brother sitting at the rickety old table, nose stuck inside a massive old book.  
     "What's up Sammy?" he asked, slurring through his sleepiness, as he walked over toward his brother. Sam looked up, wonder gleaming in his eyes like someone who had seen the stars for the first time.      "Dean, apparently there is a lot we still don't know."  
     Together they poured through this unbelievable book, making mental notes of dozen of other things to research. It was maybe 10 or 15 minutes later, as they sat engrossed, that the purple bag began to glow softly green…  
     Not moving, barely breathing, the two brothers turned all their attention to the softly glowing bag. Slowly they turned their heads from side to side, looking for anything that would give them clues as to what was going on. After a moment or so, the glowing faded without a sound just as it had appeared and still they sat frozen.  
     Finally, Dean reached out a cautious finger and prodded the silk and embroidered bag. It felt just as it had before, soft and empty. He picked it up gingerly, turning it over and over in his hands. Peering into it, he saw only the black void but upon sticking his arm up to the elbow inside, he couldn't find anything that had changed. He set it back on the table and shrugged at Sam as they put their heads back over the text they had been reading.

     When Hermione saw the men staring at the bag, she dashed the surface of the puddle causing the spell to break. Frustrated she stomped back over to the waiting boys.  
     "So?" Harry asked curiously, staring at the defeated Hermione. She sighed a deep breath before speaking.  
     "They have it in... some little bedroom," she remembered the pamphlets that had been propped up beside the television "I think it is a hotel or motel or something but that's not all." She now had their complete attention. "They opened it and pulled some things out. They were reading Hogwarts: A History." She finished and the color drained from Harry and Ron's face, leaving all three teens looking pale and scared.  
     "Well, there are only about a hundred more things that could go wrong," Ron said, trying to lighten the mood. The sideways glances from his friends silenced him.  
     "Now we really need to get it back," Harry added emphatically.  
     "But how?" Hermione asked, "We don't even really know where they are - just in a motel."  
     "Well, it can't be that far because we haven't been gone that long. We just need to find a directory or something - and fast," Harry said.  
     "But we don't even really know where we are - and all we have are our wands," Hermione explained.  
     "Why don't we just apparate about a mile or so at a time until we hit something?" Ron mused. Not seeing a better option, the three of them trudged toward the road, to try and get some kind of bearings.      As they crept from the cover of the trees, they saw a large green sign on the side of the smooth blacktop that said Greenwood 12.  
     "Well, that is convenient," Hermione blurted. They looked at her confused. Like they were children, she explained "That sign means that there is a town called Greenwood 12 miles that way," she finished pointing south.  
     "With no cloak this will be tricky," Harry said sounding less confident than before.  
     "Let's just do it. Eleven miles south so we can walk the rest of the way into town and just pray that no one is on the road," she was more panicked about what else those brothers might pull out of the bag.

     For nearly 2 hours the brothers sat in that musty old motel room as the morning sun started to pour in through the faded curtains. They read more and more about Hogwarts. Afterward, they put the book back in the bag as carefully as they could manage and Sam pulled out two more texts that they each poured through. From what they gleaned, there was a strong powerful magical community that had been around for a very long time. Although most of the information was about Great Britain, Sam and Dean did not find it hard to imagine that the same existed in the US.  
     As Dean clipped shut the book he had been leafing through, Defense Against the Darkest Arts, he said, "This ain't all bunnies and magic wishes, Sammy. There is some dark, nasty stuff in this book," he had a look of disgust on his face as he placed the creepy book on the table.  
     "No kidding, dude reading about some of the historical events, I am amazed we haven't heard of this community before. I mean look here, this guy basically Hitlered the magical community of the UK."  
     "Awesome. Well, my head is full and sore. How 'bout we fill up the other tank?" he questioned, patting his stomach. Sam looked up, smiling.  
     "Yeah, come on," and he grabbed both books and wedged them back into the bag. "But seriously what are we going to do about this?" he asked as they grabbed their duffle and headed out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

     With a sharp crack, three worn out, dirty cloaked teens appeared about 30 feet from the edge of the empty highway. Ambling up to the road, they headed toward the town called Greenwood, about a mile away according to the sign. As they walked, none of them talked, just watched their surroundings carefully, their wands held loosely inside the sleeve of their cloaks.  
     After almost half an hour, the edge of a town started to come into focus. They could see the outline of a small filling station with a greasy looking little diner connected to it. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in long dirty cloaks with unwashed hair, they strolled into the town, eyes peeled for any signs of a motel. As they meandered past the diner, Ron turned looking longingly toward the smell of fried potatoes and strong coffee. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting in the diner in the booth nearest the door were two tall men, plowing into their hot breakfast.  
     "Ron, what the..." Harry stopped, looking back at Ron. His eyes flicked up to where his best friend was staring and he too stopped speaking and walking. He shot his hand out and grabbed Hermione's wrist.  
     "Wha..." she too found the diner window and halted abruptly. The three of them stood there staring dumbfounded at the two men they were looking for, unsure of what to do next. Hermione was the first to come to her senses. Shaking her head, she made a mental checklist, rolled her eyes, and marched toward the seedy looking little diner. Glancing toward one another, Ron and Harry hustled after her, unsure of what she was planning.  
     Hermione waltzed into the diner, over to the booth with the two men and sat directly next to the short-haired green eyed man she remembered as Dean. Harry and Ron, not trusting this plan but not wanting to draw anymore attention to themselves, wedged in next to the tall dark haired man Dean had called Sam.  
     The five bodies in the booth sat completely still, eyes resting on one another. Movement in the diner continued on around them like reality wasn't just altering for the boys in the booth and fear wasn't pouring from the teens. The waitress ambled over to their table with a coffee pot, sloshing strong high test into the cups of the brothers.  
     "You kids want sumtin to eat?" she drawled, paying no attention to their strange attire and dirty faces. Hermione turned brightly toward the waitress.  
     "Yes, thank you. We'll take three coffees please."  
     "And pancakes! A large plate of pancakes," Ron added eagerly eyeing the half eaten stack in front of Dean. The waitress glanced at him under heavily painted eyelashes, and nodded before moseying back to the counter.  
     "Good morning, Dean. Sam," Hermione chimed as she turned toward the younger Winchester. "I believe you have something that belongs to me and I would like to have it back," and with a barely perceptible twist of her arm, the thin point of her wand rested just under her fingertips on the table. Practically in-sync with this motion a gentle click was heard and she felt the hard cold tip of a gun digging in just under her rib cage. Dean had used the moments of her greeting to shift his arm and grab his weapon. Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills.  
     Harry and Ron didn't move. They could tell from the white pallor of Hermione's face that something wasn't right. The tension and silence settling over the table was so thick it was suffocating.  
     "Alright missy. Now, I'm not looking to gank a couple of kids but I know that thunder stick in your hand right there can lay the almighty codswallop on everything on this diner. But, I think we can both agree that we can stow the dramatics?" Dean spoke in a low, firm voice, eyeing the terrified girl, hoping she made the right choice. Slowly Hermione lifted both her hands a few inches off the table, and slid them into her lap, leaving her wand resting alone on the table. Dean laid the gun in his lap under the cover of his jacket and placed his hands on the table.  
     "Listen, all we want is that bag and then, poof. We are gone. Please, just..." Hermione began, quietly holding Dean's gaze.  
     "And that's fair. We just wanna talk. We have seen a lot of strange, I mean really strange, things but we have never heard about any of this; any of your world. Why?" Sam began calmly.  
     "The International Statute of Secrecy decreed in 1689, put into effect in 1692, lays down protocols to maintain our secrecy and deal with infractions," Hermione recited like she was reading a line from a law book.  
     "Meaning?" Dean asked with scrunched eyebrows. Just then the waitress walked over with their coffees and pancakes. She bounced them down on the table and smiled as she waltzed away. Ron, even in such a high stress situation, could not resist the allure of fluffy, buttery, syrupy breakfast. He grabbed the sticky bottle and nearly emptied it on top of the breakfast and began digging in. All eyes watched him for a moment before he realized it.  
     "Wha?" he asked with a mouthful of half-chewed pancakes.  
     Hermione shook her head and continued, "There are laws and teams in place to keep us hidden and alter the memories of those that uncover us."  
     "You mean like brainwashing?" Sam asked looking alarmed.  
     "No, just simply erasing memories about us, leaving a gap or small confusion. Nothing damaging as long as we can help it," she said dismissively.  
     The brothers shared a look that leaked disapproval.  
     "But this world of yours seems pretty big - and old - and dark, judging by some of the books you carry," Sam replied.  
     "It is, that is why there is the Ministry of Magic to keep everything in balance. Or at least there used to be," Ron finished darkly.  
     "Used to be?" asked Dean, eyes narrowed.  
     "Well, I guess the US government is still stable in some form but the magical community in the UK is in shambles," Harry ventured.  
     "Does this have something to do with this big baddie that's tailing you three?" Sam asked.  
     Unsure of what to say, how to say it, and why they were even still sitting here, the trio exchanged glances. Ron shrugged as he piled more food into his mouth. Hermione tilted her head and grimaced slightly as if to say "What harm is there?". Harry, sighing deeply, ruffled his hands through his untidy hair. At the same time, his stomach gurgled noisily and he couldn't remember the last time that he had eaten. Sam smirked a small half-smile and gestured toward the waitress at the counter.

     Nearly an hour later, after several cups of coffee and plates of sweetly soaked pancakes, the trio and brothers had talked more than any of them had in a very long time. At first the conversation had been strained and perfunctory; neither side wanting to give ground. But Sam's eagerness to understand it all had won over. Even Dean had relaxed, leaning back a little in the booth and sipping on his coffee that never seemed to empty. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared bits and pieces of what they were doing, artfully dodging any mention of the horcruxes all together. But Sam and Dean now saw the full picture of how this skinny, dirty black haired boy and his two companions were connected to one of the most vile wizards to ever live; so evil they couldn't even say his name. And how that connection had ripped their world apart. In turn, Sam and Dean shared some of the family business with these young kids and some of the stranger things that it had dragged their way thus far. This included angels, demons, and levithans to name a few. In front of these young, somewhat terrified looking kids, the brothers left out some of their own darker connections to this life of theirs, wanting them to feel safe. Which, for all their talking, is something they obviously hadn't felt in a very long time.  
     Each person sitting there wondered at one point or another, just why there was such an ease and openness with perfect strangers. Maybe it was shared suffering. Maybe it was mutual need. Maybe it was that deep down they knew the other people sitting there were all fighting the good fight to protect people who would never know. Dean, especially felt protective.      Looking at them, he saw them living so much of the life he and Sammy had been forced to live, but they had at least had John, for all his imbalance. These kids were literally fighting the world alone. And unless he was very off his game, he felt they had a huge fight ahead of them.  
     As the third and fourth cups of coffee cooled in their hands, the conversation started to slow down.  
     "So, unless my dots aren't connecting right, I am guessing that you three aren't just running - you are working on something?" Dean chimed, making the connection the trio had been trying to avoid. They each averted their gaze which only confirmed the Winchesters suspicions.  
     "Come on guys, we have worked enough jobs with less evidence than that," Sam said smiling. "Maybe we can help."  
     "Listen, that is really a great thought but we could not put that on you. This is our fight. Besides, the Death Eaters hunting us view Muggle torture as a national sport," Ron said dryly.  
     "Wouldn't be a first," Dean mumbled darkly.  
     "Hang on, you're being hunted directly by Death Eaters, as in Volde-" Sam started excitedly, making a connection with a story he had read in one of the textbooks earlier.  
     "NO!" the trio screamed at the top of their voices, causing everyone in the diner to jump. But it wasn't enough because the second syllable slipped off Sam's lips.  
     "mort." he finished unable to stop and suddenly looked mortified, recalling what the kids had said about the Taboo.  
     A caterwalling echoed through the streets, sounding like it was about a mile away.  
     "That's the enchantment I laid coming into town," Hermione said breathless as they all stood up.  
     "Meaning?" Dean barked, trying to get hold of the situation.  
     "Snatchers - responding to the broken Taboo," Harry said frantically, eyeing a pale Sam. "We need to go now," he held up his wand.  
     "Listen, this is my fault. Let us help. We have a place where you can at least shower and sleep for a little while," Sam pleaded. Staring at one another, the trio didn't really see another option, since the brothers still had their bag.  
     "Fine, whatever, let's just GO!" Ron shouted as a cluster of mistmatched and lanky bodies started strolling up the road, clearly searching for something. Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to join hands and Hermione stuck her empty hand out to Dean.  
     "No, no - we go muggle style. Besides they won't be looking for that," he stated, unwilling to leave his Baby out front. Rolling her eyes, she scooted over so the eldest Winchester could lead the way out of the diner. The five of them tried to look casual and uninteresting since the Snatchers hadn't caught scent of them yet. However, as the bell of the diner tinkled, a dirty looking chap with a few missing teeth and a closely shaved head glanced their way. His eyes narrowed on seeing bodies in cloaks and he broke away from the group that was already splintering, hunting for the wizards who had broken the Taboo. He crunched through the gravel parking lot as the five of them loaded into the sleek black '67 Chevy Impala out front. Harry and Sam where the last two sliding in on the passenger side, when the Snatcher, about 10 feet away stopped to stare at them.  
     Not thinking, Harry flicked his eyes up toward their pursuer; just in time to watch the man's pupils dilate as he shouted.  
     "Over 'ere! It's 'im! Scar and all! POTTER! POTTER!" his rough uncouth voice rent the air of this quiet sleepy town and loud footfalls followed it. He wasn't fast is raising his wand, however, and Harry easily disarmed him before slamming the car door shut.  
     "GO!" he shouted as he watched the small pinpricks of the other Snatchers tear towards the car. Dean didn't need told; he slammed the gear shift and peeled through the parking lot, exiting behind the diner onto the old cracked roads. Making sharp turns with squealing tires, he looked for a way out of the town at top speed. Hermione was mumbling to herself in the back, her wand wafting over the edges of the old car. Harry and Ron had their wands poised, Sam his gun cocked, alert for danger.  
     Suddenly, from the left, a huge crash of yellow light slammed into the Impala, knocking it sideways a foot or so before the tires caught the road again. Dean's already pained face constricted more and he pressed his foot down to the floor. Seeing a long stretch of open highway, he barreled through a small, dried up lawn and whipped the tail end of the car to the right as he sped down the open stretch of road, leaving the Snatchers behind.  
     "What the heck was that?" Dean growled, watching the high afternoon sun reach its peak point in the sky.  
     "Snatchers," Hermione mouthed softly. There had been a few nights hidden in the woods across England when Snatchers had roved dangerously close to where they were hiding. They were dangerous and often stupid hired hitman that hunted Muggleborn wizards and any other wizard on the wrong side of Voldemort. "Like mercenaries - no conscience and often not a lot of brains," she added trying to sound braver than she felt. Hermione knew she was a gifted witch and she had been in more than one situation where she had shown her merit but the idea of a whole group of people intentionally hunting people like her made her skin crawl.  
     "Awesome. And they popped up because of me?" Sam said, the frustration evident in his voice. No one replied so he continued, taking their silence as an affirmation.      "They were screaming your name Harry?" Sam probed.  
     "Yeah - that was not good. Now they know, or at least they think they know, that I am in the States - I wouldn't be surprised if Death Eaters turn up in that town within the hour."  
     "Wait, Death Eaters - like those dudes that see torture of innocent people as a pass time?" Dean asked, eyes squinted. Hermione nodded, pale, her eyes on Dean's face in the rear view mirror. He looked pensive. Finally, after a moment or two of silence, Dean slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road.  
     "Listen, our place is about a day from here. I have a friend who can get you there quicker. But Sam and I are headed back to that town," Dean explained as he turned around in the parked car to face the teens. They all paled even further and started to argue and rebuttal against the eldest Winchester. He adopted what can only be described as a dad face- eyes closed, lips thin and a hand raised in front of him  
     "Stop. Stop! Listen - this is our job - what we do. And we brought that mess of trouble onto those people so we aren't just gonna let those dogs turn the place sideways," he said firmly.  
     "They can kill you without a word, in a flash of green light before you step out of your car. And they have no reason not to kill you - not that they would look for one anyways. But if they figure out how you’re connected to us, they'll do worse than kill you, I'm sure," Harry explained, trying to match the serious tone that the confident Dean exuded.  
     "Listen, kid, we have both been through our fair share of torture. I am sure it's nothing we couldn't handle," Dean said.  
     "Don't be so sure," Harry muttered darkly, recalling the various times the mind-melting Cruciatus Curse had racked his body to the core.  
     "Doesn't matter, we can't leave those people to die because of us. If there is anything you can tell us to help us, that would be great. Then, like Dean said, we have a friend that can take you to our bunker while we finish the job," Sam said with a determined face. Hermione sighed a deep breath, eyes closed and then looked at her hands.  
"     Well, if you are set on doing this - we can help. But we are going with you," she said without looking up at their faces. This started a fresh wave of argument, this time from the brothers. Just as they had quelled the trio, Hermione let them finish and then argued on.  
     Back and forth conversation went in that Impala. For nearly half an hour they argued, defended, plotted and planned until a rough sketch arose. Each person in that car was too stubborn to be told to sit this fight out and they each felt, in part, responsible for the destruction about to rain down on that small town. After the plan was more or less final, Sam locked eyes with Dean.  
     "Still might be a good idea to call Cas," he said. Dean shrugged in agreement and closed his eyes.  
     "Hey Cas - you busy, man?"  
     Suddenly, right on Hermione's lap there appeared a tall, dark haired slender man with piercing blue eyes. He wore a simple suit with a trench coat that ended mid thigh. At first he stared straight ahead but after a moment he realized that he was on top of another person and apologetically shifted himself to wedge in between Ron and Hermione. The eyes of the three backseat passengers were wide with shock at they stared at the newcomer, who looked from them to the brothers and back to them.  
     "Sorry - that doesn't usually happen," he said to break the silence.  
     "Cas - this here is Hermione, Ron, and Harry. They're..." Dean began introductions.  
     "Wizards - I can see it on their souls. Born with high magic in the blood. Fairly rare nowadays - a pretty secretive community," he said in a deep, staccato voice.  
     "Right, and this is Castiel - angel of God in the flesh," Dean said introducing Cas to the teens. Cas turned to look at Dean, the obvious question written on his face.  
     "It is a long story," Sam said smiling ruefully. "Listen, Cas, we are kind of in a jam..."

**Author's Note:**

> I really love feedback and, although I have much of this story created, I love make alterations based on feedback.


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